


Gasoline

by soniagiris



Category: Dangan Ronpa 3: The End of 希望ヶ峰学園 | The End of Kibougamine Gakuen | End of Hope's Peak High School
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Character Death, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Everyone is Dead, Gen, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Major Character Injury, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Recovery, References to Depression, Wordcount: 1.000-5.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-10
Updated: 2018-01-10
Packaged: 2019-03-03 02:19:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13331421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soniagiris/pseuds/soniagiris
Summary: No one is going to wake up.





	Gasoline

**Author's Note:**

>   * **warnings in tags!**
>   * beta by misty @mistropolis, tysm, little sib <3
> 


It's been an hour since Makoto was freed, and he still hasn't spoken a single word. Togami frowns, says something meaningless (something about air or food, this isn't important) in a rather unpleasant tone, but there's no malice in it. He keeps on observing Makoto who stares blankly at the IV needle shoved into his arm. There are cuts on his face and palms, likely from glass, cleaned but not bandaged yet, and a black bruise underneath his left eye, and his wrists seem slightly thinner, fine bones sticking up... Togami sighs, then squeezes his friend's fingers tighter. 

Friend, yes, because right now Naegi doesn't need to think about their rocky-yet-amazing relationship, he needs someone to cry with, to hug him, to be with him, to— stay alive.

Kirigiri's pale neck, the noose tight around it. Hagakure's limp form, with moon-white ribs and sternum and clavicles emerging from the mess of blood and mingled fresh. Asahina's mouth, open in a scream that no one heard and no one will, knife glistening coldly.

And Yukizome, Bandai, Gozu, Kimura, Ruruka, Tegan, all of them, up to Munakata himself, all dead and cold and—

Togami takes a deep breath through his nose. Lets it out. Tries not to think about this— this whole damn mess.

 

* * *

 

It's been a day since Makoto was freed, and he still hasn't cried, or smiled, or showed any single emotion. Considering how open and emotional he is, it's easy to find it... unnerving. Komaru, who got there in the morning and refused to leave her brother's side, nods when Togami says her that in a stifled voice.

"It'll take him time, but, I mean, um." Komaru scratches her cheek, eyebrows scrunching. "He should've at least, you know. Oh my..." she sighs and looks at him, bright eyes suddenly more fitting of a forty-years-old ex-soldier than a scrawny teenager. "We just have to hope, don't we, Togami-chan?" She nods again. "Yeah."

"Indeed, but..." Togami instinctively raises his hand to his mouth, then purses his lips and crosses his arms. Then realizes he forgot what he wanted to say and shrugs.

"But you need to lay off, okay?"

Makoto still looks like sleeping, but his words are sure and clear.

"Imma be okay. Just let me think this through, yes?"

 

* * *

 

It's been a week since Makoto was freed, and he still hasn't left his apartment. If it wasn't Togami's apartment too, he would've starved. 

He didn't even go out for everyone's funeral, and, while Togami can't really blame him for that, it's just... unnatural of him. Not to pay respects to their late friends and colleagues, not to even have a real explanation, just 'do it without me'. He stayed in bed, a small cocoon of blankets and pillows, and just stared at thin air with absent gaze.

Togami has some experience with both depression and depressed people, okay. He remembers the days after Foundation found them, bland, cheap days when minutes passed both too slow and too fast, and he remembers, though it's blurred with age, his mother's thin wrists and pink-tinted eyes when she presses her five-year-old son to her bony chest. He recalls the hopelessness, the feeling of hanging in between, the emptiness.

And Makoto feels like that, Togami thinks and, for a second, has to stop himself from screaming. Instead of that, he calls the office to inform then he won't show, then throws off his suit jacket, tie, shirt, shoes, glasses, leaves it all on the chair and joins Makoto. Embraces him, tries to use his skinny arms as a shield between the world and small, frightened, hauntingly young Makoto. He presses gentle, feather-light kisses to the nape of his neck, to his temples, to his shivering knuckles, and does not say a word. He just... is.

He feels this is not enough, and will never be sufficient. He wishes that past events (what a funny name, so official and cold and lacking smell of blood) were just a dream. He hopes he would wake up. But he can't, no, this is not a dream.

 

* * *

 

It's been a month since Makoto was freed, and he still hasn't shown any hope. He talked with therapists and doctors, and some worried coworkers, and smiled at Komaru, and even left the quarters for one session of equine therapy. A day ago, he told Togami he's going to go back to work, and even joked about how terribly left behind he would be. And, when they kiss, it's almost like back then, that familiar feeling of a smile, the taste of cherry bubblegum and mint, warm smell of skin and soap. 

Okay, Makoto haven't delivered even one, even the smallest speech about hope and future, and friendship, and haven't described the brightness of what will be, and haven't looked at short, young grass around the headquarters with proud smile... but, Togami thinks carefully, this is just temporal, he just needs some more time, he's been doing so much better now, he will soon...

And, then, one warm afternoon, he finds Makoto curled up on the couch, his cheeks flushed with tears, quiet sobs ripping from his chest. And, then, Togami decides he's too tired of side-stepping around this topic, too tired of halting his words when Kyoko or Aoi or anyone else come up, too damn tired of... Of everything.

(And, maybe, for an instant, he's tired of being with Naegi, tired of searching his face for signs of despair every morning— )

No, Togami tells himself. No. This is love. I chose it. I knew it will require work. I won't back down. He rolls his shoulders, then sits on the floor, by the couch, and reaches for Makoto's hand. It's damp and cold. Makoto doesn't even try to hide his tears, lets them be free.

 

* * *

 

It's been a year since Makoto was freed, and he still hasn't stepped outside the HQ. At least, until now, Togami thinks, looking at the familiar shape of Hope's Peak Academy. 

There are only twenty graduates of HPA left, and they unanimously decided their old school needs to be destroyed. It, the apocalypse, started there, and, now that Future Foundation came back to being on a winning streak, crushing despair with relative ease, now the apocalypse ends there.

Naegi squeezes Togami's hand harder as they pass the gates. He stumbles as they get inside. He lets out a little pained sound as they stand in the cafeteria. The smell of gasoline is stronger, now. Barrels full of clear liquid are everywhere.

Togami watches Makoto tiredly. He wishes Kyoko was there with her certain words, and Aoi with her bright smiles, and Yasuhiro with his dumb little jokes. Fukawa decided to stay outside, and no one can blame her for that.

They say goodbye to familiar rooms, now empty. Even ghosts left.

A few hours later, Makoto throws the first match and looks at flames shying towards the Academy. They reflect in his eyes.

Togami grabs his hand, but this is no use.

Makoto is no longer there.

**Author's Note:**

> a/n
> 
>   * this is another hella old text, written around the time dr3 was airing. so, yeah, that's the reason for the shit quality. i didn't feel like polishing it up that much, i just skimmed it, then gave it to misty.
>   * title&summary taken from[ this song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zRHNi3QfFlE)! what can i say, i really like it. after i discovered it, i listened to it at least three times per day for two weeks.
>   * if you wanna interact, drop by my tumblr/twitter (links in the profile), sometimes you can find some nice posts there.
> 



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